


Guinevere All Along

by Fictionista654



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/F, the major character death is arthur bc this is post finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:55:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28738365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fictionista654/pseuds/Fictionista654
Summary: I should be writing my Anna Karenina essay but here we are
Kudos: 7





	Guinevere All Along

**Author's Note:**

> I should be writing my Anna Karenina essay but here we are

_And so it came to pass that the King of Camelot passed from this world to the next in his lover’s arms, and the Queen of Camelot was crowned ruler of her people…_

Guinevere stood on the tallest tower, the wind scraping her curls from her face and beating blood into her cheeks. Her fingers clutched the parapet, and she stared down at her city, which was not Arthur’s anymore. And she knew that she should be crying, but the tears froze in her eyes, and all she felt was the beating of her heart.

She had been the queen for six years, and it had been a time of terrible losses and towering triumphs, and now she was alone. There was no more king by her side, no one to shoulder his share of the burden. She would have to be strong, now, stronger than she had ever been, stronger even than when she had lied to the love of her life, the fearsome Morgana, and told her that she was on her side. Stronger than when she wrested the truth from Sefa, stronger than when she had ruled Camelot in Arthur’s stead. For now the weight of the country rested on her shoulders and no one else’s.

There were advisors, to be sure, advisors and Merlin, Merlin the Warlock, Merlin the Sorcerer, Merlin the Liar. Merlin who had been unable to save her husband and his lover from the slavering jaws of death. But she didn’t blame him. She couldn’t blame him, not if she was going to start this new life with him at her ear.

But she would have to sift through everything he said. She wouldn’t believe everything, not like her husband. She would use her discretion and her wisdom to parse the truth from the knotty lies. She would rule with a firm hand, and she would lead her people from the darkness that lingered from the Purge.

She would need to unlock herself from the past. She would have to forget the warmth of Morgana in her bed, she would have to forget the warmth of Arthur’s smile. She would need to be stronger than she ever had before, stronger and braver and _better_. For now there was no one to pick up her slack, to reel her back in when the going got tough.

The tears fell, then, hot and purifying, and they dampened the stone where they dropped. She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand and kept her eyes wide, trying to staunch the flow. It hurt, it all hurt, but nonetheless, she would have to continue.

One day, she knew, the people of Camelot would sing songs of her. They would transform her into a legend, a miracle, a savior. And maybe she would be all those things, and maybe she wouldn’t, but she would not let Camelot suffer. She would not follow in Arthur’s footsteps, and even less in Uther’s. No, she would be wiser than that. She would lift the yoke from the backs of the magic-users. She would allow her kingdom to flourish the way it was meant to.

Maybe she would not be alone forever. Maybe one day she would find another woman to share her bed and her secrets. Maybe one day she and Merlin would even be friends again. But it would never be the same, and she knew that. Now she was the queen, and she had to remember that. She could not spill her emotions wherever she went. She had to hold her stuffing inside, keep herself sewn up tight. And it would hurt, oh, it would hurt, but she had a duty to her people.

Soon, the servants would come looking for her. They would lead her to the throne room, where she would be crowned once again, only this time without Arthur by her side. She would say the words that would make her queen, and they would place the heavy crown on her head. And she would not allow her neck to bend. She would stand tall, the crown glinting at her brow, and she would listen to the sufferings of her people, and she would do her best to heal them.

Gwen was raised a smith, but instead of a sword, she would forge her kingdom. It had been through so much, it was bent and bloody and nearly broken, but she knew that she would be able to bring it the peace it needed. She could do that, and more. She could do anything she set her mind to because she was Guinevere, and it had been her all along.

She smiled, then, a soft, sad smile, and she watched the people throng the streets beneath her. The city reminded her of nothing more than a beehive, filled with people beating their wings against each other. They would need a figure to guide them in the days and months and years ahead, and she would give them that and more. She would lead them from the darkness, and maybe they would remember to say thank you, and maybe they wouldn’t. But she would do it nonetheless, and she would do it happily.

A ruler is nothing more than a servant of the people, and Gwen had grown up learning how to be a servant. She knew how to attend to people’s needs when they didn’t even know them themselves, and she knew how to do it so they wouldn’t even notice. She knew how to do this, she _did_. She knew how to be queen. 

In the street below, someone blew into a horn, and the sound carried pure and sweet to Gwen’s ears. She closed her eyes and let the sound blow through her, filling her with its minor tone. The king was dead, and it was a tragedy. The king was dead, but the queen was alive.

Long may she live, and long may she rule.


End file.
